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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649785">Summer Nights</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie'>DementedPixie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Professionals (TV 1977)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:46:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A writer needs help with her research</p><p>PLEASE DO NOT RE-POST THIS STORY ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>William Bodie/Ray Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Summer Nights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My name is Demented Pixie and I’m a Pros fan, but that hasn’t always been my name. If you knew me as In Love With Both and you’re a friend, then you’ll already know why I left the fandom some years back. But, hey, a girl can change her mind, and I have therefore decided to re-share my Professionals fanfiction on this amazing Archive – no changes, no improvements, no alterations. I’ll be posting them just as they were written. No comments, no trolls, and no betas. Just me and my stories.  I’m sharing them so that they can take their place in the archive, but I’m also sharing them for the Pros generation, for those future generations yet to discover Bodie and Doyle, and for Sandra, who has never ceased waving pompoms for all Pros fanfiction writers.<br/>The following story was written by me in 2012.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Summer Nights<br/>
By ILWB</p><p>I’m not exactly sure where the idea came from. I mean, it’s a little extreme to say the least. I do remember that my mind had been wandering. And that it was a beautifully sunny day, hot and sultry, the sun pouring through the open French windows, crisscrossing the room with dust particles floating in beams of light. Really I should have given Ray the afternoon off, or at the very least gone out to get us both an ice cream. But instead he was sitting at his desk, dutifully typing up my scrappy notes from the previous evening. </p><p>He’s a wonder is Ray. Just as good at typing up from notes as he is with dictation. It was a lucky day when he came to work for me. I’d had more than my fair share of girls working for me before he came along, all sorts. Some who thought my writing was nothing but violent smut, some who were more interested in their nail varnish than they were in their work, a couple who did okay but didn’t stay with me long and, eventually, the agency sent me Ray Doyle.  Early twenties, tall and slim, with brown curly hair you wanted to twiddle around your fingers and greeny blue eyes that showed hidden depths. He wasn’t the fastest typist I’d ever seen and I got the impression he was just doing this to fill a gap between jobs but, thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind the subject matter that he was typing up and that was a real bonus. As the weeks went on so my imagination soared as his confidence and encouragement grew. </p><p>Working with Ray is just so easy. It turned out he’s even happy to chauffeur me around in my car, which is an added bonus. He’s the perfect Man Friday. And he doesn’t mind about doing overtime - if my creativity is on a roll, he’s not the ‘nine to five’ type. We’re a dream team and my current novel is coming on a pace because of it. Why this gorgeous young man was temping as a typist I never saw fit to enquire but I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.</p><p>So, yes, as I was saying. It was a hot sunny day, Ray was clattering away on the typewriter and I was day dreaming. And I had this...well I suppose you’d call it an epiphany. My plot was screaming out for me to go in one particular direction, but it was a direction I wasn’t too happy with. You see I have this rule, this guide for my writing, where I never write about important things unless I have personal experience of them. I believe that when you use personal events from your past in your writing it flows magically and the reader can get totally absorbed in the story because they can see the honesty in your words, the truth. So I’ve always used it. And, yes, I’ve even stopped myself from writing something if I have no personal knowledge of it.  Why get myself twiddled up in research and detail if I can’t write it convincingly? My readers will know straight away if I’m faking it. </p><p>The trouble I had now was that my current plot needed something - something big. And deep down I knew exactly what it needed but unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your viewpoint, it was something of which I had no experience. I’d run through it from every different direction and tried altering the outcome to avoid it, but it just wouldn’t go away. </p><p>Peace fell on the room as Ray stopped typing and he looked up at me, waiting for me to notice him. </p><p>“This lad in your story,” he said, as my eyes drifted towards his. “Something bad’s gonna happen to him, isn’t it?”</p><p>Like I said, somehow Ray is completely on the same wavelength as me. I was so lucky to get him. I nodded in reply and his expression dropped, a sadness in his eyes. </p><p>“I thought so,” he said. His teeth chewed at his lower lip, thoughtfully. </p><p>And that’s when it came to me. I couldn’t personally experience what the victim in my story was about to go through, but Ray could. I could live it through him and then write about it. But how on earth was I going to carry it out? The very nature of my plot meant I couldn’t let Ray into my plan. I stared at him, completely absorbed in how I could make it happen. </p><p>“Are you okay, Gracie?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern. </p><p>“Sorry?” I blinked at him. “Oh yes, fine. Just fine, thanks.” </p><p>He smiled, his face still showing a hint of sadness. “Okay.” And he carried on typing. </p><p>And that was it. All I had to do now, for the first time in my writing career, was bring my story to life before I’d even written it. </p><p>That should be easy, shouldn’t it?</p><p>******</p><p>Almost exactly a week to the day since I’d reached my decision, I found myself sitting in a small pub in Greek Street waiting for, what exactly? My very own hired assassin? A shiver went down the back of my neck, part excitement, part incredulity. It had been a very strange week. </p><p>At first I had been clueless as to how to carry out my plan, but then I started to think like a character in one of my own books and, suddenly, it all started to happen. Thirty years of research into the criminal classes and the places they frequent meant I actually had more chance than most of finding what I wanted. </p><p>But what did I want? The list was an interesting one. I wanted a man – a killer, perhaps. But certainly a man who could look after himself, strong, capable, who would be prepared to do whatever I wanted for a fee. I made a few tentative enquiries in some strategic places and, once I started talking serious money, the flood gates opened and I was virtually fending them off with a stick. One contact had given me the choice of three men and I spent one particularly fun afternoon in a coffee shop in Soho going through their resumѐs. Of course no personal details were provided - it was just a list of skills and backgrounds. But yes, there I was looking through the details of three men as if I was choosing a potential date. </p><p>Except, I didn’t intend to date any of these people - I wanted to hire one of them. </p><p>Eventually I came to the decision that one particular man had all the attributes I was looking for. He wasn’t a criminal as such. Ex Merchant Navy, he’d also been in Angola, a gun runner, a mercenary. And he’d been in prison but not in this country. Skilled with all manner of firearms he was also capable of killing with his bare hands. And yet as I read his details there seemed a sense that I could trust this person. I read down the sheet of paper with trepidation and no small amount of nervousness. Was I really going to go through with this?</p><p>Well yes, apparently I was, because now here I am sat in a London pub waiting for him. </p><p>Again it’s a gloriously sunny day and, as I lean back against the wooden partition that separates the saloon bar from the public bar, I allow my mind to drift back to that afternoon only a week ago. Poor Ray, he really has no idea what I have planned for him. I sip my gin and tonic happily as I gaze down at my notes. Now then, a quick refresher...the plot was going off in this direction and the bad guys were closing in, my hero cornered without any hope of rescue...</p><p>“Miss Braithwaite?”</p><p>Even though I’m expecting exactly this I find I’m still startled. The deep voice so close by makes me jump and I look up at the man with my mouth open. “Er, yes, sorry,” I stammer. </p><p>He looks amused. Blue eyes twinkle, he is obviously aware of his impact upon me. “Can I get you a drink?” he offers. </p><p>“Gin and tonic, please,” I say, automatically. He turns to go to the bar and I knock back the remains of my drink to make room for the new one. Oh yes, I have chosen well. I watch him as he orders the drinks, see how the barmaid flirts with my very own Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome. He is perfect for my plans, although I have to admit he is a little younger than I was expecting. He may even be younger than Ray. It seems that he has squeezed a lot into his young life so far, this mercenary.  </p><p>He brings the drinks back to the table and as he places mine in front of me I look up at him again. </p><p>“Thank you,” I say, thankfully a little more in control of myself now. “What do I call you?”</p><p>“Bodie,” he says, sitting on the stool opposite me. “Just, Bodie.”</p><p>“Well, cheers, Bodie,” I say, lifting up my glass for him to chink, which he goes along with out of politeness more than anything else. Oh yes, he is going to be just perfect. “Isn’t it a gorgeous day?”</p><p>He cocks his head on one side a little, presumably trying to make up his mind about something before answering. Then he gifts me a small smile. “Do you want to make small talk or get straight to business?” he asks, the smile widening. </p><p>I grin back. Oh this is wonderful. “Let’s talk business,” I confirm. Who needs small talk, anyway? </p><p>“Good,” he sips his beer then looks at me, expectantly. </p><p>“I need you for a job,” I begin. He doesn’t answer me. Yes, I know, it was a bit of an obvious thing to say. I try again, and fail. “It’s difficult to explain.”</p><p>“Try,” is all he says in reply. A man of few words, it appears. </p><p>“I need you to...attack someone. Someone I know. But I need to be there when you do it.” An eyebrow arched, which I interpret as part surprise, part encouragement. I struggle on. “I need to watch for research. I’m an author and this is important for my novel.”</p><p>“Attack?” he asks, keeping his voice low. “If you mean kill, then say so.”</p><p>“Goodness me, no!” I exclaim, in horror. “I don’t want you to...” The rest of my words are stifled as he places his finger against my lips to stop me speaking. He stares at me while I compose myself, then removes his finger. “Sorry,” I say, much quieter this time and fully aware that we are sat in a very public place. “I don’t want you to kill anyone.”</p><p>“Then what?”</p><p>I look at him, almost desperate for him to cotton on without me having to say it. But it is becoming obvious to me that I am going to have to be clear with my instructions. “I want you to rape someone,” I whisper. “A man.”  </p><p>“With you watching?” he checks.</p><p>I nod, completely out of words now. </p><p>He picks up his beer and takes several gulps. Unsure? Or just killing time while he decides?</p><p>“Is it going to be a problem?” I ask, rather bravely I thought.</p><p>He places the glass back on the table and folds his arms across his chest, his face unreadable. “I’ve done worse.”</p><p>“And I will pay you well, naturally,” I say, trying not to sound desperate. </p><p>“Naturally.”</p><p>We lapse into an awkward silence. He seems to be looking me over, appraising me. I try to stand up to the scrutiny, lifting my chin just at the moment that a beam of sunlight pours through the etched window, making me squint in a somewhat unattractive way. I don’t mind him staring. I guess people in his profession need to be sure they can trust their employers, just as much as I need to be able to trust him to do the job.</p><p>And now is the moment I choose to get a sudden crisis of confidence. Oh marvellous timing. I look down at my hands which are shaking. What on earth am I doing here? Paying a mercenary to rape my secretary? I feel my face blushing and wonder how fast I can get out of the pub. </p><p>“I, I’ve made a mistake,” I mumble, fiddling with my handbag as I struggle with the clasp. I’m even blinking away tears. Pull yourself together, woman.</p><p>A strong hand reaches out and rests on my arm. “Calm down.” Well, I’m trying, okay? I nod, still feeling shaky. “I take it you’ve never done anything like this before,” he says, somewhat condescendingly patting my arm with his hand before withdrawing it.</p><p>I initially take offence but then give in. He’s right, of course. “Do I look like the sort of person who hires people like you?”</p><p>The smile is back and so is the twinkle. “No. Not really.”</p><p>I think I’ve managed to pull myself together, but it remains to be seen. I sigh. “What do we do now?”</p><p>He stares at the table top, all business like again. “I need details of the person in question, the address where you want it to happen and a range of dates when you will both be there. You don’t have to give me all that now, but it would save time if you could. And you need to pay me - half now, half when the job is done.”</p><p>I fumble with my handbag again, knowing it contains the amount of money I’d been told would be expected. “And then?” I ask, my voice still trembling.</p><p>“Then? I do the job.” Bodie leans across the table towards me and looks deep into my eyes. “And you never see me again.”</p><p>Something within me suddenly wishes we’d met under different circumstances. Because, oh my, I really do wish I could see a lot more of this Bodie. </p><p>******</p><p>And then - nothing. A complete anti climax. And I realised that I had made a grave mistake in not settling on a particular date and time for our...arrangement. Instead I’d given Bodie a list of dates and times when Ray and I would be working together and left him to it. At first, of course, I was on tenter hooks like you can’t possibly imagine. Jumping at every sound and expecting Bodie to leap out of the undergrowth every time I took a stroll down the garden. </p><p>Days went by and still nothing happened and then, the worst thing of all - we passed the very last date that I had given Bodie and he still hadn’t delivered. Had he taken my money and run? I felt very foolish indeed and laughed at myself when I realised I could hardly go to the police to complain about being robbed. </p><p>The evening after the deadline had passed I sat alone in the conservatory watching a highly attractive sunset, a cool breeze trickling through the open doors, feeling miserable beyond words. I hadn’t even bothered with a gin and tonic, which was very unlike me. I thought back over the last few days, how hard Ray had been working on the novel and how he really didn’t deserve what I had planned for him. Perhaps it was all for the best that it hadn’t worked out.  </p><p>I wonder if he’d noticed how distracted I’d become? Well even if he had, he wouldn’t have commented. He’s a nice lad, he wouldn’t want me to feel awkward. And he’d probably just think I was suffering from writer’s block. </p><p>Even now he was doing me a favour, collecting my car from the garage where it had gone in for its annual service. The call had come through much later than expected but he’d still gone, saying he didn’t mind that it would make him late. I really don’t deserve him. </p><p>“Gracie?” </p><p>I jumped, not having heard anyone approach - Ray would normally come in through the front door since I’d given him the spare key. I realised, way too slowly, that he was standing in the garden a few feet away from the open doors of the Conservatory, looking in at me.</p><p>“Ray? What’s wrong?”</p><p>“There’s...”</p><p>“Shut up.” </p><p>I nearly fell off my chair. It was Bodie’s voice. My whole body trembling I stood up, holding onto the wicker chair back for support. Believe me, I needed it.  </p><p>Ray moved into the Conservatory with Bodie right behind him and, with a gasp, I realised Ray was being held at gunpoint. A real gun in my house. I almost fainted with excitement. </p><p>The three of us stared at each other. Ray positioned himself in front of me - protecting me from Bodie, I quickly realised. I backed away, moving away from him, not daring to look Bodie in the eye. Ray seemed to sense that something in my reaction wasn’t quite right and he looked at me, carefully. </p><p>“Gracie?” he asked again. “What’s going on?”</p><p>And now it was Ray I couldn’t look in the eye. Instead I stared at the floor and backed even further away, flinching slightly when Bodie pushed Ray hard in the small of his back causing him to fall to the floor. </p><p>Oh, God, it was really going to happen. I couldn’t let it, could I? I couldn’t stand by and watch this happen, not to Ray. I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails started to cut into my palms. What to do?</p><p>My mouth went dry as I stared at them. Bodie was pointing the gun at Ray with an unwavering hand. </p><p>“Strip,” he ordered.</p><p>“What?” replied Ray, incredulous, and still sat on the floor in front of Bodie. </p><p>“You heard me,” said Bodie. “Get ‘em off.”</p><p>Ray glanced at me again and I put my fist against my mouth to prevent myself from saying anything. </p><p>“Let her go,” he pleaded with Bodie.</p><p>Bodie smiled at him. “Oh, believe me, she doesn’t want to go.”</p><p>There was a silence louder than a thunder clap and then realisation hit. Ray stared up at me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Gracie, what have you done?”</p><p>I shrugged, apologetically. “Ray, I...”</p><p>“Shut up,” ordered Bodie. “If you have to watch then find a corner to watch from, but I won’t have a running commentary.”</p><p>I backed well into the corner of the room and squeezed myself between the potted plants and the wicker sofa. And there I was determined to stay. </p><p>“What do you want?” asked Ray, his voice quiet but strong as he looked up at Bodie from his position on the floor. </p><p>“I’ve already told you once,” snarled Bodie. </p><p>Calmly, Ray started to unbutton his shirt, making a show of undoing every button even those on his cuffs. Then he removed the shirt, folded it and placed it carefully on the floor next to him. Bodie’s eyes, dark and glittering, followed every move. And then, with a shock, I realised something. Hire a man to kill someone and all he has to do is pull a trigger. Hire a man to rape someone and he needs something else, something of himself. He has to be turned on, he needs to want it. When I hired Bodie he could have said no to my request. But instead he took it on and now here he was. What had he been doing all the days that I had been expecting him? Watching us? Watching Ray? Stalking his prey? If he had and if he were into men anyway... </p><p>I looked across at Bodie. He appeared completely mesmerised. Ray was now slowly untying his boot laces and removing them and Bodie was fixated on every move. And as for Ray...he was seducing Bodie! Slowly Ray removed his socks which he placed deliberately on top of his shirt. Then he lay back on the floor stretching his long legs out. He undid the button fly on his jeans and lifted his hips as he slowly slid the jeans down onto his thighs. I gasped. I’d always wondered and it turned out I was right – Ray went Commando. Then he paused, his jeans left at half mast. </p><p>“Take them off,” he ordered. </p><p>Bodie hesitated. He swallowed audibly, running his tongue over dry lips. </p><p>“If you want me naked, take them off,” repeated Ray. </p><p>Stepping forward, Bodie crouched and took hold of both legs of the jeans and pulled. And all hell let loose. As soon as his legs were free of the confining denim Ray kicked out at Bodie in a lightning fast karate move, one kick hitting Bodie’s chin and knocking his head back, and the other hitting him straight in the balls. Bodie howled and fell to his knees and my eyes started to water in sympathy. Ray’s naked state did nothing to hold him back and he laid into Bodie, kicking and punching like a man possessed. Bodie tried to recover his senses and fight back but really had no chance. Ray now had Bodie on his back on the floor and was straddling him, his hand gripping his short hair and, before I could step forward to stop him, he smashed Bodie’s head back against the tiled floor. And that, it appeared, was that. </p><p>Horrified, I stepped forward, my hand stretched out to him. “Ray?”</p><p>He got up, his eyes flaring with rage as he turned on me. “Stay where you are,” he ordered. </p><p>I stayed. </p><p>“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” He all but spat the words at me. I opened my mouth to reply but didn’t get the chance. “You stupid woman. You can’t play with people like this. Jesus.” </p><p>He looked down at the unconscious form at his feet and nudged it with his toe. “Who is he, anyway?”</p><p>“His name’s Bodie,” I replied, my voice trembling.</p><p>Ray ran his hands through his curls in an agitated way. “Get me some rope from the garden shed,” he ordered, and I all but ran past him in my eagerness to escape the room. </p><p>I didn’t go to the shed very often and certainly not in the dark. Swearing under my breath as I stubbed my toe on the rotten doorframe and shoved my hand into a pile of compost, I eventually found a roll of garden twine which I took back to Ray.</p><p>He’d put his jeans back on when I returned, which I have to say was a bit of a shame. I handed him the twine and he rolled Bodie onto his side, expertly tying his hands behind his back and running the cord down to his feet in a classic hogtie. If the fight had started to make me realise there was more to Ray Doyle than being a good typist, then the way he handled the rope confirmed it. There was no way Bodie was going to be able to move when he woke up. </p><p>Finishing his task Ray straightened up and we both stared down at Bodie. </p><p>“Wh...” I do wish I could stop stammering. “What do we do now?”</p><p>Ray turned on me, his eyes narrowed, his face still showing his anger. “You’re the clever author, I’m sure you can think of something.”</p><p>A hundred thoughts ran through my mind simultaneously. “Well,” I began. “We could...”</p><p>“I was joking!” said Ray, stopping me in my tracks yet again. “I don’t want to hear it!”</p><p>A groan from near our feet brought our attention back to the unconscious mercenary lying on my conservatory floor. </p><p>Ray knelt on the floor by Bodie’s side, looking intently into his face. His fingers drifted over the bleeding wound on Bodie’s forehead and he winced. He could have been wincing because his adversary was coming around but actually I think it was more in sympathy. I had a sinking feeling there was only one bad guy in the room and it wasn’t Bodie or Doyle. </p><p>“Go and do something useful,” he said, not taking his eyes off Bodie. “Get the first aid kit from the kitchen and throw me that cushion.”</p><p>What am I, the maid? But, yes, I do as I’m told. I probably owe them both that much. </p><p>It only takes me a moment to return with the first aid box and I find Ray has pushed the cushion under Bodie’s head to protect him from the hard floor which only a few minutes ago he was smashing Bodie’s face into. It’s a funny world sometimes. </p><p>I hand him the first aid box then go and sit back down on the wicker chair. I don’t think I’m needed anymore. </p><p>Ray emptied the contents of the first aid box out onto the floor and tore open an antiseptic wipe, using it to clean the blood from Bodie’s face. Although I’m sure he was being careful his actions still elicited a groan from the patient. </p><p>“Stay still,” instructed Ray, continuing with his work. “It’s not too bad.”</p><p>“Don’t...don’t be nice to me,” muttered Bodie, his eyes fluttering open to look up at Ray. “Don’t deserve it.”</p><p>“Neither of us deserved what happened tonight.” Ray started to fix a clean dressing on Bodie’s brow.<br/>
I could see from where I was sitting that Bodie was starting to test the strength of his bonds and Ray noticed it too. “Don’t bother,” he said, winding a bandage around Bodie’s head to keep the dressing in place. “Although I might let you go if you explain what happened tonight.”</p><p>“It was just a job,” said Bodie. </p><p>“If that’s what you do for a living, it might be time to get a new one. There.” Ray sat back on his heels, happy with his work. “That should hold. Now, tell me the rest.”</p><p>“I didn’t intend to hurt you.”</p><p>“Oh, thanks, that’s reassuring.”</p><p>“She, Miss Braithwaite, she wanted to see...”</p><p>“Having been in on her story from the very beginning, I know exactly what it was she wanted to see. What I can’t work out is why you were prepared to do it.”</p><p>Bodie closed his eyes, looking, and my heart went out to him for this, completely ashamed. “I’ve done worse.” Quietly, he repeated the words he’d said to me when I’d hired him.</p><p>Bodie’s tone of voice seemed to help Ray with his decision and he pulled a red Swiss army knife out of his pocket. About to cut Bodie’s bonds he paused for a moment. “Truce?” he asked.</p><p>Bodie nodded his agreement. “Truce.” He groaned in relief as Ray released him, accepting his help in getting to his feet. </p><p>They stood facing each other, framed in the doorway of the conservatory, Ray gripping onto Bodie’s upper arms as he spoke. “Find something else to do, Bodie.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“This isn’t you.”</p><p>“No. I know.”</p><p>Almost as if he simply couldn’t resist, Ray leaned in closer and, to my surprise if not to Bodie’s, he kissed Bodie gently on the lips. I became aware of Ray passing Bodie something although I couldn’t quite see what it was. “Call me,” said Ray. “If you need help getting yourself sorted.” Then he pushed Bodie gently away. “Now go.”</p><p>“I need to give the money back,” said Bodie, hesitating and looking a little confused.</p><p>“Keep it,” I called from my perch, noting how they both started as if they’d forgotten I was there. </p><p>Which of course they had. </p><p>Still unsure, Bodie paused in the doorway. Then stepped back towards Ray and grabbed him, giving him a passionate kiss. And then he was gone. </p><p>Ray stared after him and I watched Ray, knowing he’d never stay with me now and that my summer of fun was finally over. </p><p>But somehow I knew deep down that although I’d never see either of them again, the two of them had a future with each other. If the very least of what I had done was to push the two of them together, then I was happy. </p><p>As Ray picked up the rest of his clothes and walked away without even so much as a goodbye, I reached for my notepad and started to write.</p>
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